It's as if she just
Doesn't want to see-
Reality-
Blended in with all my fantasies:
As she persistently
Refuses to heed
The voice that calls her-
And that voice is me.
For in my own heart,
Like a manuscript-
I have her name written down
Upon page after page-
That put all together
Would fill a million books:
But from her,
At any given time
That I see her around-
I am seldom blessed
With hardly more
Than a single look:
It's not as if I'm asking
For the world-
I just want her-
Her!
The one
I call
The Beautiful Girl.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
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